


Theory of Love

by Mouibon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (?), Canon Compliant, Character Study, Lots and lots of talk about ushi’s vball obsession, M/M, One hundred percent unedited, Study on different types of love, The entire fic takes place in ten seconds lol, This is still a ship fic though, Ushijima thinks a lot in a short amount of time, ushijima loves his dad, ushijimas love for Tendou is kinda subtle but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24302773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouibon/pseuds/Mouibon
Summary: “What do you think love is, Wakatoshi-kun?”
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Ushijima Wakatoshi & Shiratorizawa, Ushijima Wakatoshi & his dad, the latter two relationships are kinda minor btw
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	Theory of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I started this on Ushiten day (May 1st) but I procrastinate on it so much. Now I’m uploading this at almost 2 am. Why am I like this? Lol time to get this guilt off my back....
> 
> Anyway, my self roast on this fic will be at the end if you want to read it lol

“ _What do you think love is, Wakatoshi-kun?”_

After proposing they get ice cream—just the two of them—and hearing Ushijima’s quiet ‘yes’, Satori asked Ushijima a question.

Satori had a particular way of smiling when he asked a question: a strong curl of the lips at the right corner of his mouth, his eyes closed, and a relaxed, confident aura surrounding him. It was interesting to observe how Satori’s demeanor changed, and so Ushijima followed Satori with his eyes.

Satori liked to ask random questions for no other reason than just to ask, and Ushijima always answered best he could. Maybe some of the questions were what people called ‘out of the blue’—one time, Satori asked if it was better to put toilet-paper under or over in the middle of practice—but they were simple enough questions.

This time though, Ushijima had to think about it. Putting the last volleyball into the cart, he started to think.

—————-

Maybe love was the way he appreciated his father. 

Back when he was a child, about seven or so, he remembered being bounced on his father’s knee, being sung to sleep. He remembered the shouting matches that would occur between Mother and Father, and how Father would always try to have the argument as quiet and away from Ushijima as possible. He remembered how Father fought to have custody. He remembered how warm Father’s hugs are, and how much he tried his best to understand Ushijima.

(Ushijima understood he wasn’t a ‘normal’ child. His obsession with volleyball, his unusual silence, and his inability to understand others was...unexpected of a child, to say the least.)

(But Father, being on his own, did his best. He listened to Ushijima’s concerns, he allowed Ushijima freedom, he trusted that Ushijima wouldn’t try to do anything bad. And even when Ushijima  did  do a bad thing back in middle school, Father forgave him immediately, and tried to understand his reasoning for punching someone else.)

Truly, he loved his father.

But...love was a very general word. Love could be the aesthetic appreciation for flowers, or the sweet kiss of a lover, or the love that lasts for a person long after they’re dead. It could be the hug friends share, or the passion put into work, or the softness of a summer afternoon. It was the trust between two people, or the comfort of a sweet voice after a long day.

Love was many things. And people had the natural capacity to love and be loved.

And it was because of the fact love was many things that Ushijima decided that he wasn’t going to answer with “love is what I feel for my father”. He felt only storge. He felt only the natural love a son has for his parent. The love he had for his father didn’t fit the general tone of Satori’s question, and so it wasn’t a fitting answer. And Satori deserved a fitting answer.

——————-

Maybe it was the way he liked peace.

Whenever he wasn’t doing volleyball, he would be loading up his laptop to do some homework, as normal teenagers do. Of course, the homework was done only so he wouldn’t ever fear dropping out of the team because of grades, and nothing else. 

(Well that, and because his father smiled whenever he saw the exemplary results.)

He always done his homework by the large window. The light would shine, and the only noises were the pencil scratches made upon paper, and the tap of his fingernails against the cold wood of the desk, and the random chirp or two from the birds outside.

(Of course, it wasn’t like this on the occasions Satori came over. On those occasions, there was the blasting of anime music and that one opening song Satori liked listening to lately. Was it called No. 7? Something like that.)

(In his opinion, both the peace of his usual homework routine and the times Satori blasted anime music were good.)

(Though usual was a relative word. Ushijima allowed Tendou to come in more and more often as of late. Huh.)

To be blunt, doing homework was a peaceful, though a bit boring, activity to him. He was smart enough to not have any problems anyway. And for a man who was thunder, lightning, a force of nature to everyone who knew him—though, then again, the people who knew him were all people he knew from volleyball—the silence and the soft light through the window was a balm on his soul.

At the same time though, this love of the peace excluded the most important love: the love for people. It excluded familial love, platonic love, romantic love. It excluded his love for his father, his love for the entire Shiratorizawa team, his love for Satori. And so he should not try to use this in his answer.

——————-

Maybe love was in his passion for volleyball. 

Lightning was always in his veins whenever the ball hit his hand, and flames lit up his soul. It burned the inside of him, passion and effort and skill and talent coming to a head. 

It was the only thing he would ever want to do forever, and the only thing that lit up his soul, that gave a quiet excitement. It made sense when the world decided to not make sense, it was a beautiful sport worth his attention. It was the only work he would ever want.

And volleyball was where he made his first friends back in middle school, and volleyball gave him the friends he had now. Satori, Semi, Reon, Shirabu, Jin, Goshiki, Hayato,Taichi—

He had everyone he held dear because of it. The fondest of childhood memories came from his father teaching him how to serve and attack when Mother wasn’t around, and he had his first friends because of volleyball. He met his present day team because of volleyball, and he got happiness from watching them be happy.

And his passion—obsession?—for volleyball was only amplified by his teammates, his  friends . Love was in the way Shirabu made sure to aim his sets right into Ushijima’s open palm, and it was in the way Hayato got the entire team’s back whenever a ball went over the blocks. It was in the way Satori made sure to guess correctly, and love was put into every cheerful action he did to motivate them. And it was in the way Semi never actually hated Shirabu—only extremely annoyed by his existence.

Love was how much trust the team put in him. And love was inside of him when he made sure to meet their expectations, and to make sure that trust was not unfounded. That love was Philia.

With volleyball being all encompassing, it seemed fitting to name it as the definition of love, to him. 

Still, it didn’t feel exactly right to name it as love. It was a place, and it was a passion he loved pursuing, but it didn’t feel right. 

Hmm.

Maybe it would be better if he named a person. 

——————-

He then remembered.

Satori was the reason he tried making friends in the first place. The reason why he even had friends now, in the first place.

————————————————-—————-————--—-————————————————

_ He was hitting ball after ball across the court, his palm aching and yet he simply wouldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. _

_ And he knew that gazes were on him. His teammates watched him move, the coach was watching his moves. He was fine with them looking—just looking—and not trying interact with him. _

_ It didn’t particularly matter, their lack of interaction with him. He was there for the sake of playing, and, if he couldn’t connect with others, then he wouldn’t try to force it. If they had respect for him, then nothing else particularly mattered. If they knew he was the ace, and that he was to be the center of their attention when playing, everything was fine. _

“ _Go take a break! In ten minutes, we’ll get back to training!” Coach said, and said it so hoarsely, Ushijima wondered if he should go get the old man some water. Everyone groaned at the thought of only having ten minutes for a break, and went to the wall for a break._

_Ushijima didn’t feel like following them—he wasn’t and would never be tired of volleyball—but he followed anyway._ _Grabbing his water bottle, he sat down by the wall and began to drink._

_ “Hey, you’re Ushijima, right?” _

_He looked up. Someone on the benches was looking at him, a strong curl of the lips at the right corner of his_ _mouth. His eyes were closed, and a relaxed, confident aura surrounded him._

_ “Hmm.” Ushijima nodded. _

“ _You did nice out there.” And the boy smiled, though it was rather closed mouthed. “Honestly, you kinda look like a superhero from the comics, and you’re like what, sixteen?”_

_ “Yes, I’m sixteen.” _

_ The boy laughed. Really loud. “Well obviously. You’re kinda Mr. Big Man out here. Everyone knows ya cause of Washijo.” _

“ _Hmm.” That was true._

_ (Ushijima had the feeling of being watched. Eyes were upon this conversation right now.) _

_ (It wasn’t as if he wasn’t popular. But everyone knew that trying to talk to him was like trying to talk to a brick wall, and so anyone trying to talk to him was notable.) _

( _He ignored it.)_

_ “So what do you want to do after this? Practice, I mean?” _

_ “Practice volleyball in any way I can.” _

_“You want to practice more ?” And the boy’s mouth gaped a little, in a tiny “o” shape. “Damn, that’s admirable.”_

“ _It’s not admirable. It’s doing what I want to do, and that is volleyball.”_

_ The boy paused a second. “So all you like is volleyball.” _

_ “Yes.” Ushijima kept on talking. Not necessarily because he had to, but because this was the most anyone had talked to him this year.  _

“ _Nothing else?” The boy couldn’t seem to grasp the concept. People never seemed to understand that when he said ‘only volleyball’, he meant it. “Seriously? Not even like...writing or something?”_

_ “Only volleyball.” _

_“Wow, this club must be heaven for you then.” And the boy smiled, and it was pretty, especially with the pieces of red hair that fell out of their gelled state._ “ _Honestly everyone else in here likes volleyball too! Even Semi-Semi. He complains too much. You should talk more with them!”_

_ “I do not have the wish to.” _

_ “Hmm?” The boy’s eyes widened a little. “Why? They’re all nice.” _

_“It doesn’t matter if they’re nice. There’s no one that likes volleyball as much_ _as I do.” Ushijima took another sip from his bottle. “If they can’t appreciate it like I do, and they can’t understand me, then I shall be alone, being as different as I am.”_

_ These were honest words. And it was true. If he didn’t understand people, and if they didn’t understand him, then there was a mutual agreement to not interact with each other. _

_ The boy paused, and something in his demeanor changed. Ushijima wasn’t sure what changed, but the boy’s eyes seemed to stare off into the distance.  _

_ Finally, he said, “People don’t understand you, do they?” _

“ _From my experience, only my father understands.”_

_ The boy stared again. Maybe that was a habit of his. “I can kinda get you. Being different and all that shit.” Then he got off the bench, scooting to Ushijima on his knees. “Hey, name’s Tendou Satori. Also a different person. Are we cool?” _

_ “...I suppose we are both ‘cool’.” And, instead of laughing, Tendou grinned. _

“ _I like your sense of humor. Maybe other people would like it too.” And before Ushijima could say that he wasn’t trying to be funny, the whistle blew, and Tendou was grabbing his arm, dragging him over to a group of fellow 1st-years._

_“Give them one chance!” Tendou said, a tiny apologetic tone squeezed in between his words, when Ushijima looked at him_ , _questioning. He didn’t mind being pulled around, but this was a bit sudden. “They’re cool! I could give you examples of what they’re like. Like Semi-Semi can be a real downer, but he’s cool with going along with pranks as long as—“_

_ (And he went on and on after that, Ushijima deciding to hear him out.) _

_(Ushijima couldn’t help but worry the_ _tiniest bit, because this was high school, and—in his experience—people were very judgmental in high school. At all ages actually, but especially in high school, and_ _ especially to ‘weird’ people like him. And judgmental people were too much work to deal with. Useless messes in his mental space.)_

_Tendou must have saw something in his facial expression, because he turned his energy into something more subdued. “Hey, even though they don’t like volleyball as much as you do, people can like you anyway.  I like you! If that’s possible, then anything can be possible!”_

“ _You have known me for only ten minutes. How do you already like me?”_

_ Tendou shrugged. “Eh, I just have a feeling we’re going to be with each other for a while.” _

( _Ushijima had no answer to that.)_

_ And so Ushijima followed Tendou. He wasn’t too sure about making friends—it wasn’t even necessary—but he could just think of this as a team building excercise. Coach always wanted him to bond more. _

———————————————————————-

———————————————————————-

Maybe love was in the way he loved Satori.

Ushijima would not try to lie; Satori hanging around someone like him was a unlikely match. And yet it worked. And they were good friends. And Ushijima liked him, maybe a bit too much. But was there such a thing as too much love? Maybe.

Love was in the way he let Satori’s head rest on his shoulder after watching a movie—not because he didn’t mind, but because he wanted it to be there. It was in the way he listened to every single word that came out of Satori’s mouth, and how Satori never asked him to talk more than he was comfortable with. It was in the way that they understood each other; perhaps not in the conventional way, but in the way that outsiders to society were. Love was in the small touches, the hot breath that Satori left on Ushijima’s neck whenever they hugged, the larger and larger amounts of time they spent together.

Honestly, they really did not spend time without each other, now that Ushijima thought about it. Sure, they were their own separate people, but the amount of time that Satori spent in Ushijima’s room was growing and growing more as the days passed. It was to the point that Ushijima knew that, by the time he got to his dorm every day, he would hear the door slam open with Satori on the other side. 

(There would be crinkling noises and the loud noises of plastic bags—with snacks and manga and movie disks and whatever else—rubbing against each other. And Satori would smile, and Ushijima would make a spot on his bed, and they would do whatever for the next hour or so. Then homework would be done on Ushijima’s orders, before they went back to doing whatever.)

(It was nice. Ushijima wouldn’t have called it special—these meetings were frequent enough to be considered normal—but it was enjoyable. Enough that he looked foreword to these little meetings. Hangouts.)

Hmm.

Recently, there had been new developments too. 

Like, for example, every time Satori hugged him now—breath heavy on Ushijima’s neck—Ushijima wondered what it would be like to take Satori’s lower lip and just...drag his thumb across it. Drag it so slowly, he could see Satori’s reaction to it. 

There was a interest in Satori’s mouth in general, recently. Like the way Satori sometimes licked his lips whenever working on a question, or the small injuries on Satori’s lips from gnawing on the skin too much despite what Ushijima said about the importance of lip health. 

(Interesting. It was interesting. What was it like to kiss them?)

Anyway, he was taking too long to answer Satori’s question. He should come to a conclusion, before Satori might think Ushijima wasn’t listening. Which he was.

Time to compare.

Hmm. He had already decided that he was not going to answer with ‘my father’ nor ‘peace’. The two options he had at the moment was Satori and volleyball. 

(And while both Satori and volleyball were important to him, and he loved both very much, and understood they were two entirely different things, he had to answer Satori’s question. And, since it was a very general question, he had to measure the two by how general they were in nature, and not by how much he loved them.)

Volleyball had his passion, his devotion, his undying love and flame. It had all the things people associated with love. It was the source of many good memories with his father and his friends. It was beautiful, the way the ball fit into his hand, as if Ushijima’s hand was carved by the gods to fit the shape of a volleyball. 

Volleyball had five kinds of ‘love’: storge, platonic, passionate, devotional, and obsessional. Those were the categories Ushijima made up himself.

The love he had for volleyball was a bit more complicated than that though. If anything, it was fire. Electricity. The storms and tsunamis that had been growing in his person for a long time, and the blood rush as excitement built up. His love was excitement, and it was a fire that would swallow anything and anything in his way. 

His love for Satori was also excitement. But, if his love for volleyball was like the fire coming from a flamethrower, his love for Satori was more like a fireplace in the winter. It was exciting, but in a comforting way. Like the way people look foreword to seeing their loved ones after a long day. His heart quickened around Satori not out of adrenaline, but out of happiness.

His love for Satori also had the same five types of love as volleyball: storge, platonic, passionate, devotional, and obsessional. Perhaps all of these types of love weren’t as potent in his love for Satori, but those loves simmered in his heart nonetheless. 

Five and five. Equal. 

Well, not equal considering his romantic love for Satori. Then, it would be six and five. And six was larger than five, if Ushijima remembered correctly.

Six was larger than five.

Which one fit the general tone of the question more? Hmm.

——————

“I think love is how I feel for you,” Ushijima said, after thinking for a moment. “That is what I think.”

Satori kept on smiling, until the words sunk in. It was then that he almost tripped over his shoe laces, wobbling back and forth like a pendulum until he got his balance back. His face was an indescribable, rare face of sheer embarrassment, any composure ripped from him.

But Ushijima didn’t see this, and didn’t take heed of it. He moved onto the nets, helping Shirabu untie a knot.

**Author's Note:**

> So first of all, I kinda hate this fic. Like the flow of the sentences (if that makes sense) doesn’t sound right and I hate how this fic doesn’t know what it wants to be. Is it a Ushiten fic? A character study? An observation of the types of love? Who fucking knows, certainly not me. And I feel like the Ushiten is shoehorned in??? Like it doesn’t feel natural how I put them in???
> 
> Tbh the only thing I’m happy about is the fluff. The fluff is good. The fic makes me feel good besides all of its flaws, so I hope you, the reader, feel the same.


End file.
